DISCOURSE c
C.'
IN COMMEMORATION OP
THE LIFE AND LABORS
OF
REV. GEORGE COOPER GREGG,
PASTOR OF SALEM CHURCO, SUMTER DISTRICT, S. C,
DELIVERED IN SAID CHURCH ON SABBATH, JAN 19, 1862,
BY REY. GEO. HOWE, D.D.,
Pbotsssor of Biblioal LiraRATUBB, Thsolooical Seuinabt, Columbia, S. C,
COLUMBIA, S. C:
STEAM. POWER PRESS OF R. W. GIBBES.
1862.
George Washington Flowers
Memorial Collection
DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY
ESTABLISHED BY THE
FAMILY OF
COLONEL FLOWERS
DISCOURSE
V
IN COMMEMOEATION OP
THE LIFE AND LABORS
OF
REV. GEORGE COOPER GREGG,
PASTOR OF SALEM CHURCH, SDMTER DISTRICT, S. C,
DELIVERED IN SAID CHURCH ON SABBATH, JAN 19, 1862,
BY REY. GEO. HOWE, D.D.,
PBOrESSOB OF BiBLICAi LlTBRATUKS, ThEOLOQICAL SsUINAHY, COLUMBIA, 8. C.
^ n ♦ >■ ^
COLUMBIA, S. C:
STEAM POWER PRESS OF R. W. GIBBES.
1862.
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2010 with funding from
Duke University Libraries
http://www.archive.org/details/discourseincommeOOhowe
CORHESPONDENCE.
January 22, 1862.
Rkv. George Howk, D.D. :
Dear Sir : Appreciating the merits of the sermon you preached on last Sab-
bath, (the 19th of January,) in commemoration of the death of our late respected
and beloved Pastor, the Rev. G. C. Gregg, in which you so fully portrayed his
Christian character, and believing that the character of such a man should be held
up to the Church as a bright and shining light, the Congregation held a meeting,
and passed the following resolutions unanimously :
" That the Rev. Dr. Howe be requested to furnish the Congregation with a copy
of his sermon on tlie death of the Rev. G. C. Gregg, for publication.
" "That W. E. Mills, Samuel Cooper and Dr. J. A. Mayes are appointed a com-
mittee to request Dr. Howe to furnish a copy for publication, and to have it pub-
lished."
The undersigned, in accordance with the duty assigned them, now very respect-
fully solicit a copy of your sermon for publication, and hope that you will comply
with their request.
W. E. MILLS,
SAMUEL COOPER,
J. A. MAYES,
Committee.
Columbia, Feb. 24, 1862.
To Messrs. W. E. Mills, Samuel Cooper, J. A. Mayes, Committee :
I trust you will forgive me, that in my deep sorrow I have failed to reply earlier
to your letter communicating the request of the Salem Congregation for the pub-
lication of my sermon in commemoration of your late Pastor. The consolations
which I attempted to draw from the story of Bethany for their good, return into
my own bosom in the sad bereavement which has come so soon to me and to my
house. So, through the track of ages, God's people are called to suffer. In their
homes a beloved Lazarus lies dead, and the voice of Jesus is heard — " I am the
Resurrection and the Life. He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet
shall he live. And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."
I have been much indebted to others for the particulars of the life and labors of
your lamented Pastor, and, with suitable acknowledgements to them, place the
manuscript at your disposal.
With great respect,
Yours very truly,
GEO. HOWE.
DISCOURSE.
Jesus saith unto her, I am the Itesui^ection, and the Life.
lie that helieveth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he
live ; and "whosoever liveth and helieveth in me shall never
<?i"e.— (John xi., 25,26.)
TliGse words are taken from that beautiful history of the
Resurrection of Lazarus, which dropped, like the dew of tlie
morning from the flowers of spring, softly, and full of sympathy,
from tlie pen of John, the one of all the Twelve the quickest
to feel the sorrows of others. He was the readiest, also, to
appreciate the human and the Divine in the love of the Son
of God, into whose depths he penetrated the farthest, but
whose abysses he did not pretend to fathom. It is a lovely
picture of domestic peace he spreads before us. " Behold how
good and pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in
unity!" Like the precious and fragrant ointment which
descended from the head on the beard of Aaron, is the confid-
ing love of brothers and sisters, is all that dutiful and engag-
ing conduct seen around the domestic hearth, in a family in
which there are no bickerings, among those who are of one
flesh and blood, who have drank from one breast, and have
one and the same fortune in life. In this quiet family of
Bethany Jesus had often been. It was his habitual refuge
from the din and jostling crowds of Jerusalem ; from its
ambition ; its greed ; its hollow pretence of zeal for God ; its
malignant Priests and Pharisees; its proud, narrow-minded,
scowling and angry Scribes.
"Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus."
Abiding, eternal honor this to that peaceful house, tliat happy
isle amid the raging sea. He loved them all, difl'ei-ent though
6
tliey were — the busy, bustling Martha, the meek and thoughtful
Mary, the numly Lazarus, to whom they clung, their sole
stay and defender among men. Domestic scenes were his
deliglit. He cauglit children in his arms and blessed them ;
he wrought his firet miracle at a marriage feast, amid a rejoic-
ing family ; and his last in this one now filled with anguish.
The youngest, freshest blossom of the three withers, Lazarus,
the brother of Mary and Martha, is sick.
They see and realize the danger, and bethink themselves of
their mighty friend, whose power they had heard of, and, per-
haps, had witnessed. He is at Bethabara, gone. thither for
safety. They send a simple message to him : " Lord, behold
he whom thou lovest is sick," They ask nothing, entreat
nothing, and yet say everything — the act itself speaks con-
fidence, love, humble meekness, urgent sense of their need.
He whom thou lovest is suflering, is sick, very sick; he
suifers, and we also. Shall he suffer? Shall he die whom
thou lovest, and we lose our brother, and thou thy friend?
Wliat confidence! What friendship on both sides! What
meek humility and anxious sorrow on theirs ! He could save,
save even from death. He would soon be there.
And so they comforted themselves, and strove to comfort
him, their brother. As they wiped the cold sweat from his
brow, or urged him to patience under suffering, they were
assured that Jesus would soon be there. Did he not heal the
centurion's servant, and the courtier's son, and would he now
delay? No, he will assuredly come. Perhaps he is near
already, though we hear not his footsteps. And so did they
encourage themselves and their brother — so mingled their
cup of sorrow with drops, if we may so say, of hope, through
all his mortal agony, till he expired,
AVhat a trial to their faith ! It might be that he could not
come. But he might have spoken one word of command. He
might have quietly willed the cure ; and, from the recesses of
his power, there would have gone forth healthful vigor to the
dying man, he would have stood again upon his feet,
like the mother-in-law of Peter, filling the house at Bethany
with his ministries of love, and the hearts of the sisters with
irrepressible joy. But alas ! he lias succumbed to the power
of death, and lies motionless and unconscious before their
weeping eyes.
Their messenger, also, had now returned, and bore to their
ears, it may be, those mysterious words, now clad in deeper
mystery: "Tliis sickness is not unto death, but for the glory
of God, tliat the Son of God might bo glorified thereby." How
seemingly inconsistent this! And how mysterious the juxta-
position of the words, " Now Jesus loved Martha, and her
sister, and Lazarus. When he heard, therefore, that he was
sick, he abode two days still in the place where lie was." And
yet, how do these seeming difficulties disa]>pear when we
remember who and what He was who speaks. He looked
through the future. He saw, in one glance, the resurrection
of his much loved friend following close upon liis death ; and
this death, and all its pains, swallowed up in God's greater
glory, and the joy of the sufferer. His pains and agonies were
but the birtli-pangs of a new existence ; the transition to a
mighty deliverance ; the preparation for moments of surpass-
ing joy. In His view, whose proper dwelling place, even
though incarnate on the earth, was in heaven itself, who
inhabits eternity, to whom time and space are nothing, the
future was beheld as accomplished, the incomplete finished,
sickness, death and decay overcome, and immortality and
glory gained. If Lazarus lies there sick, if lie agonizes and ex-
pires, if his sisters stand wringing their hands, and hope in vain
till hope is exhausted, his sickness is not unto death, but unto
life, and unto the glory of God. Exalted, clear-sighted glance
of that God-head, wliich surveys all, wills all, and beholds all
complete and glorious in the eternity before us ; to which sick-
ness, pain and dying beds are but the needful steps that
bear us from a world of sin to realms of light and beauty ! Oh,
if one glimpse of this vision — the merest ray of this glory
could enter the soul of the suffering one who lies forsaken in
his hour of gloom, the heavens dark above him, chained to
tliis now of his anguish, and incapable of reaching forward to
the distant future — if he could lift himself up to the view of
the coming glory, which is always present to the mind of the
8
Eternal One, how would his heart be comforted and his tears
be wiped away !
" This sickness is not unto death," said Jesus, yet he did die.
Had he then deceived them ? Or had he been mistaken ?
Ko, he knew all. Ho liad jtlanned all ; and, through what we
call death, would he give to Lazarus life, not to the body only,
but life and blessedness to the soul. " He loved Martha, and
her sister, and Lazarus," tlie dying and the surviving ones, and
meant their good. Yet did he not hasten to them, nor speak
the life-giving word. Because he loved them, he waited two
days till hope had expired, and man's extremity was come.
To his disciples, he now announces the event : " Lazarus, our
f'nend, sleepeth." Beautiful would it have been as an inscrip-
tion over his last resting place, " Lazarus, our fi'iend^'' your
friend, and my friend. Precious words to fall from the lips of
God's only Son, whom Angels worship, our Brother too, and
sympathising one — " Lazarus, our friend, sleepethP Beautiful
euphemism for the death of a believer. Sleep and death are
brothers. Each is a gentle and certain transition to life. As
in the one, so in the other, the outward only becomes inac-
tive. Sleej) is an ebbing of the powers of life to return again
in new freshness and vigor, a wonderful and mysterious, but
kind arrangement for enjoying another day. The mind ceases
not, but is refreshed still for new activity, and the body pre-
pared with new power to do its bidding. We dread not sleep,
though it locks up our senses, for we know that without it we
are incapable of the refreshment and joy which morning
brings, and unfit for the duties still required. So, without
death — it is the ordinance of Heaven — we will not be ready
for that newness of life which soul and body are to enjoy
together. " Lazarus, our friend, sleepeth ; but I go that 1 may
awake him out of sleep." " That I may awake him !" How
appropriate ! how gentle the word! Thou sleepest, Brother of
Jesus, and deep is thy slumber, narrow thy chamber, and
low lies thy form in the dust. But from the distance ap-
proaches the step, though by thee unheard, of Him who has
the keys of death and of hell ; of Him who spake on the morn
of the creation ; and it was done. The hour will soon be here
when His voice shall be heard above thy grave : " Lazarus, my
friend, the mornin*:; is breaking, awake from thy sleep !
awake ! "
His disciples understood him not. And he was obliged to
speak plainly the hard word : " Lazarus is dead." " And I
am glad, says he, for your sakes, that I was not there, to the
intent that ye may believe ;" believe with a liiglier faith when
ye shall see my wondrous power, and believe, also, in the
Resurrection of the Saints at the last day.
He arrives at Bethany, near Jerusalem, finds that Lazarus
had lain in the grave four daj^s already, and that there were
many Jews, who had come from the city to comfort the
mourners, and who were to be witnesses of his deed. He enters
not the house, but tarries outside the town, nearer to the
place of burial. The bus}'^, active Martha knew of his coming ;
the heart-broken Mary sat retired, absorbed in grief, and unsus-
picious as yet of the rumor of his arrival. Martha approaches,
and says : " Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brotlier had
not died." These might have been construed as words of
re])roach. If tliou hadst done tliis or that, if thou hadst taken
the little trouble to liasten hither, the dead would have lived ;
this great misfortune would not have occurred. Bat not in
sucli a temper were these words uttered. Not in such a spirit
were they repeated by the gentle Mary, who, hearing tliat the
Master had come, and was calling for her, came quickly. They
had tried all human help. Brothei", sister, friend, could not
have saved one pang. They had waited vainly for his coming,
like those who wait for the morning. But come he did not.
And the bitterest drop in their cup of sorrow was that all
this might have been prevented. Had the sickness occurred
when he was near, or had they informed him sooner, Lazarus
miglit 3^et have been by their side, their living brother. And
yet, says Martha, " I know that even now," though we have
laid him away in the grave, and decay is doing its work upon
his once fair form — " whatsoever thou wilt ask of God, God
will give it thee." It was the utterance of faith, and yet of
want of faith. He was prevalent in prayer, and by this could
ohtam fi'oin God that which, if she onl}^ knew it, he could do
1(1
08 God. "Jesus said unto her, thy brother shall rise again."
Her tearful eye sees, her sorrowing heart perceives but dimly.
Tlie sky is overcast ■with cloud, and a misty haze gathers
around her. " I know that he shall rise again," said she, in
the Resurrection, at the last day." She is dreaming of some-
thing distant when help is near at hand. She clung with a
merely human passion to the ol)ject of her earthly love. " I
know," she says, " that he shall rise in the Kesurrection." But
the day was so far oif. She must be lifted to loftier views, as
we, also, must, and have her heart turned away to her Lord
and Master, and absorbed in the contemplation of his power
and love. Otherwise, if her brother were given back to life
as a mortal man, there would be the pain of another parting
when death claimed either liim or her as its victim. " I am
the Resurrection," says he, in the words of the text, " and the
Life." "I am the Resurrection," the death of death. Its
corruption and decay are nothing to me. The power to raise
the dead abides in me, who am present here. One day with
me, your Lord, is as a thousand years, and a thousand years
as one day. And this, as well as that, can be the hour of resur-
rection to whom I please. " I am the Life," its author, and its
source. From me flows the vital fluod through all the veins
of the natural world, whose Creator and Sustainer I am, and
even so do I live in all who are spiritually alive. They who
live not in me are spiritually dead, and a rayless night
covers their departure from earth, and they go away into
dense and eternal darkness. " He that belicveth in me, though
he were dead, yet shall he live ; and whosoever believeth in
me shall uever die," By his faith in me, he shall receive a life
over which death has no power. Even if he seem to die, he
lives still an uninterrupted life ; the clay tenement ma}^ dissolve
under the power of the fell destroyer, but his inner life
remains untouched, save as it is lifted to a higher sphere, and
flows on in inconceivable enjoyment, under the power of what
men call death, but which, to the believer, is but a sleep till
the morning breaks. Believest thou this, Martha ? and thou,
wx'cping Mary? Believest ihoa this, my hearer? Believest
thou that in Him, the Lord of Life, all the powers of life eter-
n
nal centre, of lite not merely in its first creative action, but of
life in conflict with death, destroying the grim monster's work,
and converting it into a transition and a birth into a wide
freedom from all sin and sorrow, into a bomidless, joyful and
eternal life?
" Yea, I believe," says Martha, " that thou art the Christ,
the Son of God, which should come into the world." I
believe, and have believed,* as far as I could, and as far as I
knew, that thou art the Christ, the Son of God, of whom our
Prophets and Scribes have taught that he shoukl come into
the world. I own thee as the Author of all life that animates
the world, and I own thee as he by whom the Resurrection is
to be accomplished, " when they that sleep in the dust of the
earth shall awake," thy people and thy flock to " shine as the
brightness of the firmament" — even as Daniel spoke — " and as
the stars, forever and ever." What she thus believed, we, my
hearers, may believe with a more instructed faith. Not only
as he was God was he able, but as Mediator, though clothed
with our mortal clay, has he been empowered to invade the
realm of death, to take the prey from the mighty, and deliver
the lawful captive. " I will ransom them from the power of the
grave. I will redeem them from death. O, death ! I will be
thy plagues. O, grave ! I will be thy destruction. — (Hos.
13 : 14.)
But behold the love and tender sympathy of our Lord. The
broken-hearted Mary had cast herself at His feet, and with
her bitter, yet loving cry, " Lord, if thou hadst been here, my
brother had not died," her voice is choked with grief. It
is the moment for tears. Tlie sadness of death overpowers
them all. Mary weeps in uncontrollable sorrow. The Jews
weep. Nobles they may have been. But they all weep, friends
and enemies. Jesus Himself is moved, and His heart is
stirred to its lowest depths. Indeed, He is a High Priest who
can be touched with our infirmities. Mary cannot speak.
And so it often is with the child of sorrow. But the unutter-
able grief of the voiceless suflcrer, her prostrate and exhausted
* rcETiiarevKa.
12
form, her sense of nothingness, is the most touching prayer to
Him who is miglity to save. Yet is it not mere sympathy
witli which he is moved. The one case of death before liim
brings to his view all the graves and bereaved households of
eartli. It was the wages of that sin he came to expiate, and
which, as to believers, was laid upon him. It was the work
of the devil ; of liim who had tlie power of death, whom he
came expressly to cast out and destroy, and " to deliver those
who, through fear of death, are all their life time subject to
bondage." It was a grief, therefore, mingled with horror and
indignation of spirit,* at what sin had wrought, and this
thought he pondered till he shudderedf through all his frame.
But he advances to do battle with the conqueror of the
human race. "Where have ye laid him," says he? "Lord,
come and see," is their reply. The indignation he had felt at
the blotting out of the earthly image of God now changes into
the gentler emotion of sorrow. The simple words " come and
see" bring before him the sad reality. Lazarus, whom he
loved, has fallen a victim to the fell destroyer. His dust has
gone to connningle with the dust of earth. The friend of his
bosom lies a cold earth-clod, no more a man, no more a brother
dwelling with us : lie lies in his lonely and narrow house, in
the hand of God, insensible to us, awaiting like the buried
seed-corn the morning of the Resurrection. Death has
triumphed over him. He can refrain no longer. Ilis heart
overflows, his eyes arc wet with weeping, till the Jews them-
selves exclaimed : " Behold how he loved him ! "
He ap2:)roaches the tomb, not without another outburst of
indignant horror at the sad ravages of sin. It was but for a
moment. " Take ye away the stone," says he, with majestic
composure. Your hands have placed it there, your hands can
take it away. But the sisterly voice of the anxious, careful
Martha is heard. She cannot bear that the remains of that
dear brother should be made offensive to others, nor that her
Lord should go down and look on the changed countenance of
his friend, and be revolted at it. " Said I not to thee," says
* Ive/ipifiijaaTO tu irvev/iaxi. \ Irupa^ev iavrhv.
13
the conqueror, " that if thou wouklst believe, thou shouldst see
the glory of God ? " Then, in a wonderful prayer of thanks-
giving, he lifts his eyes to Ileaven, thanking his Father that
he had heard him, triumphing thus before the victory.
Though as a Son, he learned obedience on earth, and asked
and received ; yet, as he was God, each prayer of his human
lips, and wish of his human soul, was the declaration of an
eternal purpose which must be fulfilled.
" The hour is coming," said he — at an earlier time in his
ministry he said it — " in which all that are in their graves shall
hear his voice, and shall come forth." That hour, at least to
one, has come. " He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come
forth." It was a resistless mandate. The spirit heard, and
came from its absence to its wonted abode ; the lifeless clay
heard ; life darted through all its members, and the vital flood
ebbed and flowed through every vein ; the damp and decay,
and odor of death, departed from the cheek, and the man,
Lazarus, returned to his weeping sisters, clothed not yet with
an immortal, but with a mortal body, the stay and staft" for a
few years longer, the joy and light once more of the house the
Saviour had so honored and blest. And the voice which thus
spake, was the voice of that Redeemer who can call back to
the body millions as well as one, who shall ILimself " descend
from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the Archangel
and the trump of God," to call forth the buried Saints, and to
transform tlie living, who " shall be caught up together with
them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air ; " to be ever
with the Lord. " I am the Resurrection, and the Life : he
that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live :
and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.
Believest thou this ? " thou sorrowing one that lidst wept and
weepest yet over thy departed friend ?
But this Lazarus, who was he ? He was no titled man.
He was neither Ruler, Scribe, nor Priest, among his people.
He. was a private person, of an honorable house, we do not
doubt, the youngest of the three, perhaps, dear to the Lord,
we suppose, for a noble nature and an unfaltering love
14
towards his person, aud dear again, because the brother of
Mary and Martha, whom he also loved, and who leaned upon
this one as their stay.
We have spoken of this household at Bethany at too great
length, we fear, for the special purpose of bringing before yon
that Adorable One who is the Resurrection and the Life, and
of showing you how precious in his eyes is the death of all his
saints. We come now, to speak of another household, which,
though exhi1)iting other relationships, was, we hope, like that
of Bethany, honored with the Master's presence, and held one,
at least, whom Jesus loved.
We come to s]ieak of him* who was a friend to you all, and
to Jesus, our and his Master and Lord. He lived among you
not as a private man only, nor as one who was the light and
joy, and stay and defender of one family alone, but the cheer-
ful and wise companion of many, and a lamp bright and shin-
ing, which God had placed in the candlestick of his Church to
give light to all that arc in his house. There are relations
which he bore, of kindred and blood, as tender as those of the
three friends of whom we spoke ; there are relations which he
sustained to the Church militant on earth ; and there are and
were relations to the Church triumphant above, where he is
now gathered to be ; and there were and are relations sustained
by him to our Lord and Head. For it pleased God, who
separated him from his mother's womb, and called him by his
grace, to reveal his Son in him, that he might preach him
among men. He chose him to this end, and for it ordered the
events of his life, and fixed the bounds of his habitation that
he could not pass, and when the twelve hours of the day he had
appointed him to do his work were ended, took him home to
himself to receive his reward.
Let me rehearse his life and character, in connection with
the preceding history of the house in Bethany, and see if some
of its consolations cannot flow over upon us.
It was near forty-eight years ago, in Marion District, on the
19th of February, 1814, that he first saw the light of the sun. It
*Rov. Georgo Cooper Gregg.
15
was on the 28tli of May, in 1861, that lie, too, fell asleep in Jesus,
having lived on the earth forty-seven years and three months,
closing in the midst of an admiring people and weeping
friends, an honorable and useful life. Of tlie parents who
guided his infant footsteps, and trained him in the admonition
of the Lord, one, his mother, yet survives, and is present with
us to-day. He lias readied the liaven of rest before her. She
can say that, in his youth, he kept " his father's command-
ment, and forsook not the law of his mother," and we can
testify that they were, as the wise man has said, " an ornament
of grace unto his head and chains of beauty about his neck."
(Prov. 6 : 20 ; 1 : 8.) At seventeen years of age his school
education, at a distance from home, appears to have com-
menced. The Holy Spirit pressed, meanwhile, the lessons of
parental instruction, and the truths of God's word, upon his
heart ; and after a youth of thoughtfulness and sobriety, as he
was approaching manhood, the decisive moment in his
religious history came, in which he passed from death unto life ;
from that realm of moral darkness into whicli our birth intro-
duces us, into that realm of light and life into which regener-
ation ushers us ; from the bondage of corruption into the sweet
and pleasant service of a new master, Christ our Lord. In
his twentieth year he became a member by public profession of
the Church of Hopewell, then under the care of the Rev. Thos.
R. English, to whom I am indebted for many of these facts.
Soon after this, he heard the voice of the enthroned Master,
who, when he ascended, received gifts for men, saying,
""Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" His grateful
and believing heart replied, " Here am I, send me ;" and he
began, under his Pastor, those classical studies which he
subsequently pursued elsewhere, till at the age of tweuty-two,
when his mind was mature, he entered the College of South
Carolina, where, after a course of successful study, continued
through a period of three years, he was graduated in 1838.
Tlie next three years were spent in the Theological Seminary,
under the instructions of my venerable colleague and myself,
and in a class of choice young men, some of whom are gone
to their reward. Amid pleasant studies in God's holy word,
16
in the society of congenial friends, who each contributed tlicir
part to the happiness and improvement of the rest, in the
contemplation and discussion of Divine trutli, tlie years glided
swiftly away. The amicable conflict of mind with mind,
the ennobling doctrines of revealed religion daily meditated,
the cheerful intercourse with loved associates, left their traces
on his whole after life, and established friendships still fresh
and green now that he has departed. With the slight change
of a word, he could have said with the Apostle, who, on one
occasion, reverted to his own student's life : I " profited in
the Jews' religion above many my equals in mine own nation."
On the 4th of July, 1841, he and his classmates left the walls
of that sacred retreat, and went forth to labor in the Master's
vineyard. lie had been licensed in April before, with his
classmate, John D. Wilson, over whose early grave we might
well bestow a tear, whose ministry, so full of promise, was so
soon terminated, and, after a short trial as a candidate, was
ordained and installed your Pastor on the Otli of November
of the same year, as the successor of R, W. James, whose
memory is still precious. Ills uninterrupted pastorship of
more than nineteen years, in this age of ministerial change,
the perfect harmou}' which prevailed ever between him and
liis people, and the increasing endearment of this relation
between you and him, are evidences how well he filled the
ofiice, and how great was that worth which, like a magnet,
drew you to him. As he stood up to address you, his numly
form, his kind expression of countenance, and his warm and
honest heart, contributed to iniju-ess you with respect for him,
and win jowr attention to the truths he uttered. His preach-
ing was solid and instructive, sound in doctrine, clear in state-
ment, strong in argument, and close and unambiguous in
application. If he did not aficct and did not attain the
highest graces of style and manner, he was yet, especially in
liis more elaborate eflforts, rich and varied in apt and striking
illustrations, drawn from the wide fields which his reading
and observation spread out before him. At such times he
enchained the attention of his hearers by his instructive dis-
courses, unwritten, as we are told, towards the close of his
17
ministry, yet faithfully prepared, and delivered with increas-
ing tenderness and force.
In his intercourse with his people, of which you know far
more than I, there doubtless was mncli that was attractive.
His dignity and ease of manners, his sound and uid)iassed judg-
ment, his freedom from all prejudice, his powers of conversa-
tion, and his genial and inoifensive humor and liis kindness of
lieart must liave won for him a place in the homes and hearts
of men, and made his presence welcome at every hearth.
Tliis was to have been anticipated from the promise of his
earlier life. A friend and classmate,^' who knew him well, tes-
tifies that he was the most deservedly popular man among his
fellow students, which was due to the confidence reposed in his
judgment, making his opinions valuable to all wdio stood in
need of counsel ; due also to the equanimity of his disposition,
for he was singularly free from those varying moods which
disturb the equanimity of other men, and to the fact that
though not seeking others, he was accessible to all, and never
disappointed any ; due, still further, to that kind and gentle
humor which was always bubbling up and pervaded his con-
versation, lending it a charm which made him an agreeable
companion — a humor controlled by a rare prudence, never
taking an edge that would irritate and pain, but always kind
and genial. The loss of such a man must be deeply felt in the
connnuuity in which he moved.
By none, we are told, were his labors more appreciated than
by the colored members of his flock. Though he was fond of
philosophic studies, and kept well abreast of the current litera-
ture in Philosophy and Theology while he lived, he adapted
himself with w^onderful ease to their modes of thought, con-
veyed the rich treasures of truth, of which he had so great a
wealth, into their untutored minds, and, knowing their temp-
tations and frailties, and yet having confidence in them and
respect for their character, he had the firmness to deal faith-
fully with them, and the wisdom with all this faithfulness to
win and not discourage those who were prone to wander.
* Rev. Dr. Palmer, of New Orleans.
18
Probably very few could compare with him in the influence
he gained over this portion of his flock, by mingled firmness
and kindness ; for though he never passed them without a kind
word and a pleasant smile, yet he did not rashly receive them
into the church, and was firm and decided in discipline when
it was required. Many of thorn will gather around h'un in the
New Jerusalem above, and thank the Good Slicpherd who in-
trusted him for so many years with the care of their souls.
Nor was his voice unheard in the house of affliction. The
liouse of mourning more often welcomed him than the house
of feasting. His sympathizing voice spoke consolation to the
mourner, and drew towards him the hearts of those whom God
had smitten. And in this was he like that Holy One who
took upon him our griefs and carried our sorrows.
Nor was his influence restricted to his own congregation.
His intercourse with his brethren in the ministry was to them
peculiarly valuable and grateful. He was social, and yet his
opinions were never obtruded. The friend I have already
quoted speaks of him as being the most self-contained man he
ever knew, and though disposed to silence, and waiting to be
challenged, yet as universally accessible, uniformly frank in
his utterances, and singularly free from concealment. His
mind, too, was of a high order, and his opinions on all subjects
of Theology and Philosophy more completely formed than
with the most of men, and in these departments he was abreast
of the ascertained learning of the age above others. His piety
was sincere and deep, his moral sense accurate and unerring.
His censure was more easily borne, when it came, than that of
others, because free from prejudice, and though it had a kind
of judicial severity, it was never volunteered — never obtruded.
With those qualities we have mentioned before, it is easy to
see that his society was prized by his brethren. As a presby-
ter among presbyters, his knowledge of the principles of our
church polity, his acquaintance with the forms of business, and
his instinctive perception of what each case required, gave him
a deserved preeminence. We remember well the dignity with
which he presided over Synod, on one occasion, as its Mode-
rator ; the quickness with which he solved each intricate ques-
19
tion of order as it arose ; his dispatch of business, and his
quick rejection of everything, however plausibly presented,
which would end in confusion and evil at last. His services
were invaluable as the Stated Clerk of Presbytery, and long
and gratefully will he be remembered for the important ser-
vices he rendered as Agent, Director, and Clerk of the Board
of the Theological Seminary, the laborious and responsible du-'
ties of which last office he ].)tirformed to the satisfaction of all.
He was ready for every good work, and resorted to for counsel
in all our schemes of public benevolence. In the Domestic
Missionary enterprise of his OAvn Presbytery, his wisdom, en-
ergy and firmness were of great price.
Of his domestic relations who shall speak ? Who shall tell
what he was as a Husband and a Father? God had endowed
him with a cheerful, contented disposition, and an almost en-
tire forgetfuluess of self. There was no reasonable sacrifice
which he would not make for the comfort and happiness of
those dearer than life. But even in the privacy of home he
was firm as a rock where duty was involved. His conscience,
too, was tender, and God's glory was above all things else.
Such was the lovely character of our departed friend. Wlieu
the news that he was stricken with paralj^sis went forth, many
hearts were made sad throughout the bounds of our State. In
four months afterwards another stroke followed, and in Septem-
ber, 1860, he tendered his resignation to your church. This
resignation you declined to receive; but at last, convinced
that he would labor for you no more, you sorrowfully consented
to accept what he still pressed upon you, and the relation be-
tween him as your pastor and yourselves as his flock was ter-
minated by the action of Presbytery in A]H'il last.
There was still one official act he felt called upon to perform.
His patriot heart bled for his country's wrongs, and he deeply
felt the impropriety of sending Commissioners to sit in the
General Assembly to meet within the bounds of a hostile
power at war with the Confederacy we had formed. His last
act was to present a paper to the Presbytery of Harmony at a
meeting called at Mt. Zion Church, to withhold Commissionerg
from the General Assembly.
20
Tlis work on earth was done. He had endured his protracted
bodily atilictions with patience and clioerfuhicss, thou<^h he
deeply felt the privation of his Sabbath labors among his be-
loved people and the servants of his charge. But by grace he
was enabled to bear up under this load of disappointment, and
to cheer, by his almost playful disposition, the sinking hearts
of his beloved family. Towards the close of May he was vis-
ited with his last and fatal illness. During this he was calm
and peaceful, relying wholly on his Saviour's righteousness, and
ready to depart. The only pang was parting with his family,
for whom he seemed thoughtful and concerned to the last,
often fixing upon the objects of his dearest love a look of im-
dying affection when he could no longer articulate a word. It
was a scene of earthly sorrow like that at Bethany, of which
we spoke in the earlier portion of this discourse. And when
he passed away the Master was not on earth, working miracles
in confirmation of his mission, and there was no voice of re-
sistless power heard, calling our brotlier back to the troubled
scene of earth, again to die. From all tliese liuman sorrows
he was at once saved. The promise of our text was fulfilled.
And it can be said of him, " our friend sleepeth," awaiting a
more glorious morning than he ever beheld. "Whosoever
liveth and believeth in me shall never die." He shall live on,
in immortal life, which nothing can disturb. And though such
an one " were dead," to use the dialect of earth, " yet shall he
live." So declares to us to-day He who is " the Eesurrection
and the Life." Death was to our friend, on the one hand, a
slight and momentary pang ; on the other, it was the chariot
which conveyed him to a happier clime, or the door M'hich
opened from a world visited by clouds into one of eternal day.
Precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of all his saints.
Precious even is his earthly tabernacle, though visited with
decay. The Eedeemer keeps his vigils over the sleeping dust,
and He that raised up Christ from the dead shall quicken our
mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in us.
Illustrious morning ! when the saints are raised with incor-
ruptible bodies, and Mount Zion above is vocal with new songs
of triumj)li ! Let the dead bury their dead in sorrow, and fu-
21
neral dirges sound around their sepulchres. But when the liv-
ing bury Our Saviour's living ones, that shall never die, let
our hearts sing with joy at their deliverance from sin, tears
and pain, even though we lose their society on earth. For
they have escaped this land of sighing, and are gone where
" they shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; neither
shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb
wliicli is in the midst of the throne sliall feed tliem, and shall
lead them to living fountains of waters : and God shall wipe
away all tears from their eyes."
To-morrow, perhaps, after a few to-morrows at most, we
shall be with them, joining in tlie everlasting song, and going
in and out in the temple not made with hands. We shall be
united to those who have gone before. Deeply too as his ab-
sence is now felt in the family, the church, the Presbytery,
Synod and Assembly, he has entered the general assembly of
tlie first-born, which are written in heaven ; has gone to that
God who is the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men
made perfect ; and instead of ministering here to you, has
been worshiping these months past around the throne, and
joining in the song, " Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to
receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and
honor, and glory, and blessing."
And though another servant of God occupies this pulpit
now, and another voice resounds around these walls, and
another youthful David has taken his sling in hand and gone
forth to do battle for God in your midst, forget not the pastor
who has led 3^ou hitherto, and has gone up to his reward, nor
allow his bereaved ones to lack the sympathy and affections of
the people who have delighted to honor him. So shall your
ancient church, now nearly reaching, if it has not already
reached, the centenary of its foundation, maintain its renown
as a body of true believers, noblemen, if we may so speak, in
this earthl}'^ kingdom of our Lord, in whose generous and kind
hearts all the friends of Christ and his true ministers shall ever
find sympathy and love.
